


How to Cheat at Bowling and Get Away with Love

by TwilightRealmWolf



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Accidental Hook-Up, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe- Bowling Team, Cheating, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, One Night Stands, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4193238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwilightRealmWolf/pseuds/TwilightRealmWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There had always been a large difference between luxury and destitute.<br/>Yet, this is the story in which luxury meets destitution, and the world (almost) doesn’t collapse around them.</p>
<p>AKA the Freelancers are the best bowling team in the city and the Blood Gulch Crew aren't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Cheat at Bowling and Get Away with Love

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very excited to release this! I'd been playing around with the idea for awhile, and it just kinda came to me while I was out with one of my friends. So, I wrote it, huzzah.   
> Please let me know what you think!

There had always been a large difference between luxury and destitute.

Luxury was something that many people could only ever imagine, as money seemed to be the only true way to be “in”. It often came in the form of sleek, black cars that were capable to impeccable speeds, or enormous houses that sat atop the mountain side overlooking the coast. Obviously, these were unobtainable without a rather large volume of money. On the other hand, there sat destitution, where all that people thought of were the neighborhoods that were whispered about for all the bad rumors that had come out from the latest news article, where every house was small and in shambles- that is, if there even was a house at all. Instead of sleek black cars there was rusty brown cars who’s suspension creaked beneath its own weight. The two had always been antonyms of one another, never meeting or intermingling in any sense.

Yet, this is the story in which luxury meets destitution, and the world (almost) doesn’t collapse around them.

Though, this may be one of the only time where there were more screams, shouts and loud crashing noises associated with luxury rather than destitution.

The Mother of Invention bowling alley was the perfect example of luxury that existed in the bowling scene. Located in the “hip and trendy” area of downtown Austin, Texas, the Mother of Invention brought in many people, both locals and tourists alike. The tourists loved to come in to get a real glimpse of the unique things that Austin had to offer. The locals loved to come in for the exclusive night scene which seemed to have a perfect seamless blend with the bowling scene, ultimately forming the ideal nightlife experience that no one had quite thought of before. Well, not before the Director, anyway.

The Mother of Invention was a unique sort of business, with one of Austin’s best selections of top shelf liquor behind their dimly lit bar, located inside a very relaxing lounge. As well, they also had a “snack bar” of their own, but it wasn’t all greasy food, but rather a large selection of both greasy bar food and small elegant tapas that could be shared at a table of friends that were simply in the establishment to bowl and gossip with some food and a bottle of wine. The institution also possessed one of the largest music selections and the best sound system all throughout, taking the music that Austin was known for everywhere people could be around the alley. The lighting was always dim, setting a very elegant tone throughout the alley, and the leather lounge chairs that sat all around the floor helped to accentuate that very specific tone.

Though, it was only like this when the night arrived after the sun had set past the horizon which signified the awakening of the city. Before that, the alley is filled with bright sunlight and family bowlers who came with their children and laughed over a large greasy pepperoni pizza and a pitcher of coke. At the same time, the Mother of Invention catered to its most valuable patrons, the Freelance Bowling Team.

Most commonly known as “The Freelancers”, the team was known for being one of the best up and coming teams in the sport. Each current member had previously been in a high rolling league or had been an independent extraordinaire, managing to pull in income by doing nothing more than play innocent as they took other cocky bowlers for all the money that they carelessly carried around with them in their loose pockets. They were the epitome of professional and skill, always keeping up their impeccable reputation.

“Hey, Wash, how much of a bowling pin do you think you could shove in your ass before it hurt too bad?”

Maybe they weren’t always the most professional.

Wash looked up from his phone to stare at his friend in utter disbelief and confusion, some sputters leaving his lips as he struggled to come up with a response.

“How do you even _think_ of that kind of question, York?” Wash asks, one eyebrow raised to express his confusion. In response, York simply shrugged before strolling off to the counter to take care of a family of four that had just entered the alley.

During the day, the Director, the owner of the Mother of Invention, left the freelancers alone to manage the alley so that they could practice for league whenever they wished, as well as earn some extra money on the side. Connie had always thought that he simply just left them alone to manage themselves because he was too cheap to hire anyone else, and sometimes the Director’s behavior couldn't help but make Wash agree with her.

As York stood at the desk accepting payment from the family, Wash set his phone down and looked around the bright alley in search of his friends and teammates. Looking towards the far end of the alley, where lanes one through eight sat, which were reserved for the freelancers, he saw North and South talking together, South sat draped on a table with her stomach to the ceiling while North simply sat in a chair with his feet propped up on another. The two seemed to be having a rather friendly conversation from their body language, but then again, Wash was halfway across the bowling alley from them, so who was he to say.

In the lounge sat on a barstool was Connie, but she constantly demanded that everyone refer to her as CT. Wash had never really understood the premise behind the name or why she ever so desperately wanted everyone to call her by it, but he had never found the chance to ask her. She was an excellent person, but she had never been the greatest bowler in their league, and that constantly had her on edge, and when Connie was on edge, she was what Wash would consider terrifying. Wash had thought about the ways that his death could happen, and that was not one way that he wanted it to happen.

Wyoming was also in the lounge, but he was napping in one of the leather recliners with a half finished cigar sitting in an ashtray that sat on the table beside him. First, he talked so fancily, but then he also smoked cigars? Wash always thought of the possibility of him actually being a real supervillain. He wondered if the moustached man owned a white fluffy cat by any chance.

Then, in the snack bar sat Maine and Florida, the two of them sharing a basket of mozzarella sticks while they discussed the previous days practice. The two had always seemed like the most unlikely friends, as Florida was constantly chatty and upbeat while Maine was very quiet and reserved, never using more than grunts to communicate. The man wasn’t fully mute, but he seemed to prefer to communicate using sign language, which all the freelancers had taken up fairly quickly after he had been recruited to the team.

FInally, behind the counter, in the management room with the computers and all the files sat their team leader, Carolina. She was the Director’s daughter, which automatically made her responsible for managing the finances and other miscellaneous bills that came in throughout the day when the Director was away. She had never vocalized that she was unhappy with the position that he forced her into, but Wash knew better. He knew that she would never openly defy any form of authority, especially not her father. Though, you didn’t have to be close with her to know that their relationship wasn't exactly the healthiest.

Wash lost his train of thought, his eyes staring at York behind the counter as he retrieved shoes for the customers, his eyes focused on his tan skin and golden brown hair. He wasn’t quite sure as to why he was staring at York, but he didn’t even realize that he was doing it until York was right in front of him, using his calloused hand to lightly slap Wash across his right cheek. The slap made a decent sound as it collided with his freckled cheek, and Wash shook his head to bring himself back into reality and thought. He looked up at the man that stood above him, giving him the most annoyed look that he could possibly muster up with his sleep deprived body. It must have been sad, because York only laughed.

“Dude, why the hell were you just staring at me? Were you making sure I was doing my job correctly? If so, I’ve been here longer than you so my seniority makes my opinion better than yours,” York tells him, his voice smooth with his usual joking tone. Wash scoffed before responding.

“No, why would I need to do that? Unless you aren’t doing your job correctly. That’s not really my problem though, that’s Carolina’s problem,” Wash states matter of factly and York makes a sound of denial before waving his hand at Wash in a dismissing motion.

“Oh please, Lina doesn’t scare me.”

“She should,” Wash deadpans, grabbing his phone off of the table, flicking it open with one swift motion. He goes to read the new email that had just popped up in his inbox before York’s hand is enveloping the entire device in his hand, swiping it swiftly from Wash’s hands, holding it up above where Wash was able to reach while shaking his head.

“No, you don’t need to be on this thing so damn much. What’re you even doing anyway? Is it online shopping, because there are things on my Amazon wishlist that you should really consider buying me.”

“Why would I buy you things off of your wish list?”

York shrugs, still holding Wash’s smart phone above his head. “Because you love me.”

Wash scoffs, standing up and swiping for his phone, but he missed and just ended up smacking York’s arm instead, which only made York hold the phone up higher to keep it out of the freckled boys reach. Wash crosses his arms over his chest in disapproval and glares at York through narrowed eyelids, attempting to look menacing.

“I do not love you, where did you get that information from? Wikipedia? Oh York, didn’t your teachers ever tell you that isn’t a reliable source?” Wash says with a small edge in his voice which he always had even when it wasn’t needed.

“Hey, Wikipedia is a reliable source of information. They confirmed that.” York defends, holding up his other finger to point it at Wash. Wash just pouts, his lower lip sticking out slightly without him even noticing. The two freelancers stared each other down, Wash looking for a perfect time to jump up and swipe the device from York’s grasp. York watched the smaller boy intently, watching as his eyes flicked occasionally from his eyes to his hand, then back again. He knew what wash was trying to do, but it would never work. He smiled teasingly down at Wash, who’s pouty scowl deepened even further to display how angry and displeased he was with the current situation. Though, just as Wash was about to make a move for the device, another hand came out from behind York and took it with ease, to the strong displeasure of York. York whipped around to stare the culprit down, shoving his chest in protest to the actions that had just been performed.

“What the hell, North, I was winning that fight!” York exclaims, shoving North’s chest again to enunciate his annoyance. North didn’t move in the slightest when York shoved him, just simple laughed and looked over York’s shoulder to Wash and smiled.

“We need to practice, not start fights,” North says calmly as he throws Wash’s phone directly at him. He caught it with ease, pocketing it quickly to ensure that it stayed in his possession. York groaned before rolling his eyes at North.

“You do know what practice is, right? It’s essentially just fights.”

“Hey, it’s not that bad,” North defends in his usual fatherly tone.

“Of course you don’t think so, you’re used to South starting shit, you grew up with her!” York protests, crossing his arms over his chest just as Wash had done earlier. Wash simply just remained standing behind the men, watching them argue with one another without getting himself involved. Eventually North seemed to have enough of York’s shit and decided that enough was enough as he slapped York on the back not so lightly and said nothing more than “Let’s go, champ.” and began walking off towards the lanes that were reserved. As they walked, Wash began to follow suit, but detoured towards the back office in search of Carolina. He leaned in the doorway, knocking quickly three times in order to get her attention. She looked up at him, her green eyes sharp and focused.

“Apparently we’re practicing, according to father North,” Wash tells her, pointing behind his back towards the lanes. Carolina nods affirmatively before turning back to her computer to save her documents that she was deeply invested in at the time.

“Alright, I’ll get the others,” She says, sighing as she pushes her chair away from the desk, stretching as she does so. Wash only nods silently before turning on his heel to walk out of the office, swiping his black and yellow custom bowling shoes from behind the administration counter before setting off towards the group of freelancers that had already formed in entirety without the help of Carolina. York, North and South all stood together in a group laughing, while Maine, Florida and CT sat together on the leather lounge chairs, talking in hushed voices as they polished their bowling balls. Within seconds, everyone was ready and keyed into the system, and Carolina was pressing start on the touch screen.

“Round begin,” The voice of their software system rang out, her voice chipper as usual. Carolina smiled as she leaned forward to select her ball from the rack, walking forward towards the lane to set up her first roll.

“Why thank you F.I.L.L.S.” Carolina responds fondly as she bowls her first frame, a strike to start her off. The speed of her ball sent the pins cascading all around into many different directions, the sound of the pins deafening without the presence of music in the alley. The freelancers whooped and cheered loudly, uncaring of the families in the alley around them.

Sometimes, Wash wondered how he’d ended up here in the first place.


End file.
